


The Only Thing That Matters

by Adverant



Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Borderline Personality Disorder, Bromance to Romance, Feels, Implied Love Interest, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, implied depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adverant/pseuds/Adverant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's gotten so much better since the last attack, but he's not sure what he'll do if- when- it happens again. All he can do is watch as his friend walks away from him in the airport and smile like an absolute idiot.</p><p>"It's okay, I'm okay." Those are his only thoughts, and he doesn't even realize he's whispering it over and over under his breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trained Emotions

_"It's okay, I'm okay."_ He breathed, his smile softening and running his fingers through his hair, watching one of his best friends walk into a crowd and disappear in the airport.

 **_Are_ ** _**you?**_

_Am I?_

He sighed, frowning for a second and turning towards the airport doors, his fingers tapping on his leg in his agitation. He ruffled his dark hair again, putting on a smile for show and waving as he walked past a fan towards the door. He stepped outside and into the cool air, blowing over his skin and raising bumps on his arms. This isn't so bad, there are still people here to talk to, he reminded himself. He got into the car he'd ordered to be there, giving the location he needed to go and lying his head back to stair at the roof, his focus on the sounds of the car's wheels over the asphalt and the city noises outside.

The car slowly pulled to a stop and he opened the door, thanking the driver for making the trip and waving as he stepped into the restaurant. He was suddenly enveloped in warmth, warm browns and rusted reds decorated the place, making it even look warm to be there. Soft yellow lights played off his glasses and he sat across from a blond woman and a taller man with short curly brown hair. "Mark, hey!" He looked up as another man walked in, with who might've been his wife. "Bob, Mandy, come sit down!" The taller man across from him called.

He greeted his friends, asking Molly and Wade about their flight, and confirming with Bob and Mandy that he would be visiting Cincinnati soon. They began conversation, and Bob told them a fun story about a very energetic fan meeting him and Wade. "Yeah I met her too- such a spirited girl. How do people have all that energy?" Wade laughed, shrugging and Bob giving similar response, the girls both involved in their own conversation. He could only imagine the response of  _"Yeah, I like her. She's like me- full of fire."_

 _"Maybe that's because she actually sleeps."_ He would have commented at that with a lopsided smile.  _"Sleep? Ha! Sleep is for the_ _weak."_

He frowned.  _This was supposed to be fun._ _  
_

**_It wont be._ **

_Wont it?_

He sighed in frustration tapping his fingers and greeting the waitress that arrived to take their orders, making his pick. He wasn't all that hungry, but for the sake of food and well needed energy and nutrition he ordered steak and salad anyway. The world around him seemed almost tunneled, he couldn't seem to focus on anything in particular besides the plate of food that had at some point found itself in front of him, being poked at with his fork as he made an effort to look like he even wanted to be there with his friends to be eating it in the first place.

 _I wonder what he's doing._ His mind prodded, going back to when he stood in the airport watching as the person he'd met only a few times before walked out of view into the crowd which his mind blurred into puddles that could hardly be called people. Then his mind wandered to the idea of that man sitting on a plane looking bored and almost lifeless compared to how he'd seen him that week, putting quick glances towards his iPad, and a few fleeting- contemplating- glances towards his phone on the seat beside him.  _Maybe I could text him, so he'll get a pleasant welcome when he lands. He might appreciate it._

**_He wont- you'll annoy him._ **

_Will I?_

He was brought out of his thoughts off somewhere else by the clatter of a fork against a plate, realizing after a moment of staring into his salad that the fork was his own. He quickly snatched the fork into his hand again and aggressively stabbed a piece of lettuce, looking up and from face to face to see if any of his friends had noticed him. Molly looked red in the face from laughing and Mandy seemed content, when Bob was arguing about a hilarious story with Wade who was also laughing hard, a story he couldn't care for if he tried.

He loved Bob's stories, there was always something funny about them but it usually meant someone else doing something insanely stupid that he had pretty much always expected- someone else being him or Wade. This just wasn't his night, he decided and brought the abused lettuce to his lips and nibbled on it absently for a moment trying to hone in on his friend's voice and story, to hope that he might capture the humor and feel warmed with a good laugh. He wasn't, and he just forced a smile to his face and stuffed the rest of the bit of lettuce in his mouth to give a reason for the absence of his usually loud and obvious voice.

When dinner was done, they were supposed to go back to the other guys' hotel room and hang out, playing board games and of course cards against humanity. They were all tired after all they'd done this week, and anyone would believe him if he told them he was the most exhausted of them all, he even looked it. It wouldn't be a lie either, he was pooped, but it wouldn't be the reason he didn't join them tonight- not this time. He missed the silence, where he could forget about trying to really pay attention to his friends, or listen to their stories and jokes or even their genuine concern like Wade had just asked him.

Wait, what?

"Mark?" Wade's voice sounded confused and quiet, and he was suddenly aware the only sounds were the usual hustle and bustle about the restaurant, his friends were all silent. They were watching him expectantly, and he didn't know what to do about the sudden spotlight shined directly into his retinas. "Hm? I'm sorry, I'm just..." He trailed off, just what? What could he tell them that they would believe, what could he say that wouldn't be a blatantly lie but no where near the truth? He didn't have to, Wade just nodded and replied. "Yeah, we're tired too. You don't have to come back with us, Mark, get some rest." He smiled at his best friends, the first genuine expression of happiness he's shown all night.

He appreciated his friend's concern for him and understanding, even if he only thought he could understand Mark. He loves his friends for that too, they have a stupid way of assuming and thinking they understand that make his excuses so easy to believe, and keeps them from questioning him. He's so lucky to have these people by his side on this journey of life, and he wonders every day if they know that, if he says it enough, if he needs to say it more, if he's worth it.

**_You're not, you don't deserve them._ **

_Do I?_

He placed the cash for his meal on the table and mumbled a goodbye saying he was taking a taxi back to his hotel and for them to have a good night, smiling to the waitress who said a polite farewell to him also, she seemed so nice it was too bad there were already too many people around him he lied to and kept on their toes. She didn't deserve for him to make an effort to be polite and friendly and befriend her, only to deceive and lie to her every which way and on ever single thing she asked him, while sharing her honest thoughts because that's what friends expect from each other.  _She seemed so sweet, I hope she's happy._

**_Do you? I bet she hates you._ **

_Does she?_

He groaned in frustration to himself, waiting in the cold and tugging up the collar of his coat as the taxi he called pulled to the curb right in front of him, he opened the sleek door taking a seat and giving the driver his destination. He watched the dark night outside his window, squinting slightly at the double glare of the usual city lights caused by his glasses and the car window. He needed sleep, he just needed a lot of sleep honestly.


	2. Waiting On The Phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Oh just the usual morning' he tells them, 'I feel fine now that I've rested up.' he reasons.  
> 'I'm fine' so he says.
> 
> What he doesn't mention is 'I just feel empty and it's one of those times I can't hear anything over my self hate' what he doesn't explain is 'I can't feel anything other than this cold lifelessness, this ridiculous calm, and I just can't shut out the voices.'
> 
> What he doesn't blurt out is 'Help me, I should be so scared, but I just can't feel it anymore.'

He doesn't text Jack, it's not worth it and they both need sleep anyway, he didn't lie about that at least. He doesn't even bother looking at his phone, instead he leaves it on the bathroom counter and strips down to his underwear, slipping under the hotel bed covers and staring at the dark in front of him. The world is a cold, murky grey with how little light is in the room and it's disappointing, some color would have been nice about now.

He's got the blanket hiked up to his chin and his hands balled in it, but the unfamiliar fabric isn't comforting and it doesn't melt the interior cold he feels invading him. He meant to sleep as soon as he got back to the hotel, he intended to catch up for the many lost hours, but in the end he found himself staring at the grey wall across from him expressionlessly. Hours, all he did was stare and it did occur to him he could be with his friends right now, laughing at having fun, and god does he ever just want that. He thinks about it, hearing the laughter in his ears, and Wade calling out 'what are those?!' in a funny voice for the amusement of them all. They would have wanted him there, why wasn't he?  _I'm not sleeping anyway, I could have gone with them. They would have made it better, like he did._

**_No they wouldn't have, they aren't him._ **

_Would they? They want me to be happy, but how can I._

**_No they don't, they don't want you._ **

_I can't be happy._ **  
**

His throat felt tight, his eyes burned, and he squeezed his eyes shut. It took a moment for hot puddles to form on his eyelashes, drawing damp trails down his face as if in slow motion, he couldn't help this anymore. He couldn't hold it back, hot tears burning storms in their wake and dripping onto the pillow leaving a salty taste on his lips, which he licked by impulse. He took a shaky breath in and let it out low and slow, feeling like his chest was too tight too hold all this air, it felt like his lungs carried more than just air- he felt like he was breathing sand.

He brought his knees up, hands tugging on his hair as he screamed only airy whispers into the empty room, why didn't it hurt? He could never stop wondering why he never felt it, it felt like nothingness was smothering him and he was claustrophobic, he should be so scared of this and what it meant for him. Suddenly he could breath again, and he gulped quick uneven breathes of air, trying to fill his chest with the cold oxygen. Was this a panic attack, how would he know? He coughed, a sob breaking his breath for a moment and shaking his shoulders, and then it was all over and he stretched back out.

His face felt sticky from the salty streams that had once poured down his face, and his muscles were sore from how he'd been tensing them, his eyes must have been puffy and his voice felt very broken, his chest ached so deeply it was comparable to heartburn. It was all just such a dark feeling and then suddenly it was nothing, he felt nothing, he barely even thought about it, and he just rolled over and found himself tangled in the blankets staring at another grey wall. He closed his eyes, and quickly found the feeling of nothing surrounding him like it usually did, but with a welcoming dream waiting for him in the deepest dark of his mind.

So blue, so bright, and so beautiful. It makes him feel weak and lost and something warm he can't place, and it's the first time he's felt anything for years now, and it's glorious. He's never had this dream, but he knows he's dreaming if only by the fact that he feels something other than the usual emptiness, and he'll forget it in the morning after his morning routine. It's such a sad tradition every time he finds himself half way to deep sleep but not quite making it, his mind keeping him too occupied to make it there.

He entertains the idea of not acting out the dream and just waking himself up, but he doesn't want to wake up to the emptiness again, here he is actually feeling something and seeing someone and he can focus on them. He doesn't think much on it when he finds himself approaching the other man in his dream, when he gets close he feels like the ground is shifting underneath him, and his whole scene changes from the warm lounge room from one of his memories to something he can't place- he's seen it, he knows he has, but there's something he just can't place.

And then there he is, sitting on a bed with his back against a blindingly white wall, black painted wood shaping modern deigns on the walls. He's very soon aware of another person in the room once he adjusts to the sudden shift and watches as another man with light brunette, silvering hair approaches him carefully, crawling up onto the bed with him. By impulse, he reaches up to run his palm over the stubble along his jaw and running his hand down his neck and over his shoulders. He stares into his blue eyes while the other places one hand on the wall above his shoulder.

His breath hitches as the paler male leans towards him, their noses brushing as he tries to savor everything about this moment. He tries to absorb everything he's subjected to, everything he  _feels_ because, by god, he fucking feels it all for once. He drags his palm up to play with the brunette's hair, where it's soft and short on the back of his neck. He can feel the smooth surface of the sheets beneath him rolled between his fingers as he grasps it with his other hand, the musky scent of the other male is all he can smell and he just can't get enough of it. He revels in all the pale smooth skin and the beautiful blue gaze, the warm breath brushing over his lips reminding him just how close they were.

He took one last deep breath in before tilting his chin up, their lips brushing together softly, not quite a kiss but it doesn't get to that as the other pulls away immediately. He backs off and stumbles off the bed, pressing against the opposite wall and shaking his head vigorously. "Fock- I'm... Sorry. This is wrong." He opens his mouth to say something in reply, the warm feeling he had moments ago that flitted through his chest and nerves turning cold and freezing everything inside of him. It starts hurting, hurting so badly like someone is pressing hard on his chest, trying to crush him. He rolls onto his side on the bed, letting out a cry at the feeling as it spreads throughout him, causing him to whine for a moment at how bad it's getting.

The guy approaches him again, this time calling out in worry, but he can't hear what is being said through the agony as it overtakes him. He sits up in bed with a deep breath, every single one of his limbs is shaking like a leaf and he slowly lies back down to regain control, holding back tears that are putting pressure behind his eyes. He could feel his breath shiver and shake with ever rise and fall of his chest, and squeezed his eyes shut trying to shut it all out. It took him a while to get a hold on himself, slowly throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing, walking towards the bathroom like he had every time he woke up in this place that he didn't belong. He opened the door carefully, running his fingertips along the wall while he walked, pressing his palms into the bathroom counter and staring into his reflection.

This wasn't how he wanted to live, and he didn't deserve it.  _I don't deserve this, I don't deserve to only feel hurt and empty, I don't deserve to feel nothingness._

**_Sure you do, you're so pathetic. You deserve every bit of it, and are you not grateful of what you've done?_ **

_Do I? Of course I'm grateful... aren't I?_

The thoughts caused conflict in his mind, he shook his head as if he could fling the voice right out of his ears, then ran the water of the tap through his fingers. He splashed the cold liquid onto his face, scrubbing it in with the heal of his palms in almost an attempt to scrub away all that he was, looking up into the mirror and seeing red rimmed, dark eyes staring back at him. Why had he been crying? He was really crashing down lately, wasn't he. He just couldn't keep up that look of positivity on all the time, especially when it seemed it would never again be genuine, he wondered for a moment if that was a bad thing after all.

He moved sluggishly out to the main room again, reaching for his suitcase which he withdrew today's wardrobe from. He was quick to dress himself, grabbing his phone when it rang and finding Wade and Bob on the other end arguing about something. "Hey Mark buddy! How was your morning, better?" He shrugged, before realizing they couldn't see him and replying. "Oh just the usual morning," he tells them, "feeling better now after some rest." he reasons. Bob seems skeptical, "Are you sure you're okay? You worried us last night." He sighs, "I'm fine." so he says, running a hand through his hair. "Look I gotta go, I'm going to be late for my plane's boarding." They said quick goodbyes and hung up.

He turned it off without checking it for any other messages or notifications and put it in his pocket- he was flying out today, he had no need to turn it on if it would be off for the flight. He lifted the luggage as he walked out of the room, walking down to the main floor and paying for his stay, striding out into the street which was busy as always. He weaved through people until he found a relatively empty parking lot and made a call for a taxi to pick him up to take him to the airport, standing in the brisk morning air with hardly a care, feeling a bit bland. He still hadn't a clue why he'd wasted time crying this morning, had he another dream?

Probably. He even doubted it was different from the last too, but this time he does remember something about last night. A pair of brilliant blue eyes, kind and loving, and beautiful, he wants nothing more than to see those eyes again watching him with that careful adoration and measuring his every movement as if the holder might turn on a dime if he breathed wrong. So precise, but the perfection of them was just so captivating- he couldn't get it out of his mind. It must have been from the dream last night, there was no one the day before who looked at him like that, though he supposed that one Irish friend of his had blue eyes. How odd.

**_You're not good enough for him, you'll never be what he wants._ **

_What? Shut up, stop, he's my friend._

**_No, he isn't and he wont ever be._ **

_Isn't he?_

The frustration got to him again, and he scratched his arm slightly while he shifted weight from foot to foot trying to keep calm and not have to deal with any public break downs. It's hard but the taxi does eventually get there and take him to the airport so he can go home, and just the thought of being in his own room again is comforting to him, as he soon finds himself sitting in the plane seat. The Stewardess was nice, she said a hello to him and goodbye, but he couldn't help feeling similar feelings as with the Waitress the other night, he snapped at her a little bit by accident a few times. He tried to make it seem like he was impatient and had somewhere to be, not like he was deliberately being rude, which was what he realized he was.

Home wasn't far now, all he had to do was make it, and then he could drown in it all on his own away from speculation. He still needed sleep, he hadn't slept long that night. Maybe he would dream of those blue eyes again, maybe he'd remember something else too this time. Perhaps he'd just forget altogether, but even then it would be okay because he wouldn't have to worry about it. That worried him, forgetting about those blue eyes. He wants to see them again, and more importantly, he wants to know whose they are.


End file.
